


Mr. President

by vibranium_ass



Series: Mr. President [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Past, Political AU, Reader-Insert, Scandal, Shameless Smut, Smut, Smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9821321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibranium_ass/pseuds/vibranium_ass
Summary: You're the person that protects and defends the public images of the nation's elite, stopping any crisis before anyone even realizes it exists. With your own crisis management firm behind you, you soon learn that your clients are not the only ones with secrets.





	1. Make The Time

**Author's Note:**

> This series is inspired by Shonda Rhimes' Scandal.  
> I hope you enjoy!

“We’re going to die.”

“Quit the dramatics, Stark.” Your hands travel down the warm, gray wool of your coat. Your fingers reach the cool metal of one of the many buttons, stopping to fiddle with the circular object. “Wait, wasn’t tonight date night? Pepper must be upset. Sorry about that.”

“We’re _actually_ going to get killed.”

“This is what, the eighth dinner I’ve dragged you from in the past couple months?” The pads of your fingers come to a small thread protruding from the opaque button, you quickly yank on the string. Your eyes trail down to the thread, mentally celebrating that you didn’t take off the entire button alongside the string. “She must hate me by now.”

“No one comes to the front door of a Russian mob boss without the proper entry fee.”

“You know, Tony, she’s going to be expecting a proposal soon enough.”

“There won’t be a proposal at all if I die tonight!” Tony’s dark irises move back and forth between your face and the elevators doors. The large briefcase settled in his grip grows heavier and heavier with each passing floor. “We can’t just walk in there two million short, it’s basically a death sentence.”

“You have no faith in me, Stark.”

“They don’t just take whatever money you place in front of them. This isn’t ‘Deal Or No Deal’. This is a game of ‘Give me what I want or I’ll shoot you in your fucking face.’”

“The Senator couldn’t come up with the money. That doesn’t mean we just stop doing what’s right. They took something of his, and we’re here to get it back.” You move your palms up to your loose ponytail, tightening the elastic. You smooth down the flyaway hairs as you lick your lips in anticipation. “It’s a shitty situation, but it’s our situation.”

“Okay,” Tony stops mid-sentence, feeling the elevator come to an idle stop. He switches the briefcase into his other hand, wiping the clammy palm it previously occupied on his jacket. “Just do what you do best. I asked Pep to bring home some extra risotto, I want at least one last meal that isn’t Clint’s shitty ramen.”

Your eyes roll at the constant dramatics of your partner but immediately switch to a straight face that exudes both calmness and confidence as the elevator doors open. You flash your eyes quickly over to Tony, sending him a small wink. “May the games begin.” You mutter to yourself before fearlessly strutting out of the elevator. 

The sound of your heels striding down the concrete hallways echo loudly from the abandoned office space. Your eyes narrow through the darkness as you proceed down the hall, suddenly shifting your pupils to a door that has light pooling from under the frame. You reach for the handle and forcefully push open the door. Behind the door stands two men. One man wears a suit that you assumed to be more expensive than your car, and the other one a simple black sweater with matching dark pants. The more lavish of the men is who you came to negotiate with. 

“Vlad, you’re looking more despicable than ever tonight.” You fold your hands in front of yourself, watching both men carefully. The ritzy man with an awful combover, also known as Vlad, glares deeply at you and your partner.

“Where’s the money we were promised?”

“It’s right here,” You motion towards the briefcase in Tony’s hand. “But where’s our end of the bargain?” Vlad motions to the man in the dark sweater as he reaches behind himself to a table. The man reaches inside a tattered cardboard box that lays on the table and pulls out a small bundle of blankets. You move your head over by an inch or two to get a better look at the tiny, cooing face of the Senator’s three-month-old son. “Now take your three million-”

“We said five million. We agreed on five.”

“Three is all the Senator could get within twenty-four hours. I suggest giving more notice the next time you send out a ransom.” Your eyes shift over to the man standing next to Vlad, watching as he pulls out a small revolver. Your heart drops as you watch him bring it to the back of the infant, but you keep your calm facade on display. “I would suggest not jumping the gun here.”

“And why would that be?” 

“Because within this briefcase is two boarding passes; destination motherland. Boy, would I suggest leaving now because takeoff is in less than two hours, giving you both just enough time before you’re added to Homeland Security’s no-fly list. Speaking of which, your names are going to pop up on that list in exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes.” 

A smirk forms on your lips as Vlad motions for his partner to lower his gun. “Good boys.” You reach over to tony, taking the briefcase from his hold, handing it over to Vlad. “Now I’m gonna take what we paid for and I’m going to go.” You remove the baby from the Russian man’s arms, nuzzling the baby into your chest. “It was a pleasure doing business with you. I thank you. My client thanks you. I hope to never see you again.”

With that you strut out of the room, your heels once again echoing down the barren hallway. Tony, with an extra spring in his step, strides next to you.

“God,” He mutters with a shake of his head.  “I love this job.”

 

* * *

 

“Here’s to [Y/N],” The loud pop of a cork flying off of a cheap bottle of champagne Clint Barton, your number one hacker, bought when he received a text from Tony that Senator Banner’s son had been safely returned. “Our fearless leader and one badass bitch.” Tony finished his toast raising a paper cup, leftover from Natasha’s birthday a couple months ago, nodding his head towards you.

“Hear, hear!” Clint shouts, pumping a fist into the air. 

You let out a loud laugh, smiling to the small group collected in the meeting room. These people have been here for you in countless situations much like tonight, sometimes even riskier. These are the people you owe your life to. You have Tony, the friend you made in law school, who has stood by you for years and is always right beside you during any situation you may get yourself into. Then you have Natasha and Clint. You met the two of them three years ago back when they both worked for the FBI. After having to work with the pair during a mission, one your not supposed to tell a single soul to, they decided to leave their jobs and join your small team. Finally, there’s Bucky Barnes. How you and Bucky met is a different story depending on who you ask, only the true one is known between the two of you. 

You pulled out of your nostalgic trance when you feel a large arm wrap itself around your waist. You turn to your left finding the bright, curious stare of Bucky’s staring deeply into yours. “You did it yet again.” A smile tugged at his lips, and at the same time tugging at your heart. He rests his forehead lightly against yours, breathing slowly as your noses touch.  “You never cease to amaze me.”

You find his smile contagious and feel one playing at your lips. “Are you getting soft on me, Barnes?”

“Maybe, but-”

“[Y/N]?” Natasha’s soft voice cuts through your’s and Bucky’s moment. You pull away from Bucky and give Natasha your attention. “Someone’s on the phone for you.”

“Who is it?”

“Phil Coulson.”

You release a small breath of air a close your eyes. “Tell him I’m out. I’m at the grocery store, Tahiti, the moon, it doesn’t matter. Just tell him I’m not here.”

“Will do.”

You run a hand down your face and turn back to Bucky. A look of concern flashes across his face, but quickly leaves just as fast as it had came. “What’s that about?” He questions wearily. 

“Oh,” You shake your head. “It’s probably just something to do with Mr. Banner. I’ll call him in the morning.” You bring your hand up to his arm and slowly trail it down. “Right now I think you and I should head home.”

 

* * *

_The gentle patter of raindrops falling lightly against window echoes throughout the small room. The cracks between the curtains allow the glow of the full moon that brushes between the dark storm clouds to scatter through the darkness of the bedroom. The beams of light cast down against your lover’s figure. His quiet breaths fill your ears as his dark, full, lashes cast down towards your sheet adorned body. Your back is to him, unkempt hair fanned out over the silk pillowcase, his light retinas transfixed by the slow rising and falling of your sleep-induced breaths._

_“…[Y/N]?”  
_

_His eyes trail down your body, stopping at the curve of your hip. He reaches for the satin material delicately hooking his thumb under the fabric, pulling the thin sheet down to the start of your thighs. A familiar heat spreads across the skin of his fingers, spreading up his arms and right through the core of his body, the moment his flesh collides with yours. His stare lingers on the perfection that lays next to him, attempting to take in every detail of the moment he’s gladly trapped within. Moments like these are as rare as they come in his life. Pure bliss is something he hasn’t felt in years, instead stress and anxiety are what grip his life day by day. He refuses to let this moment slip through his fingers much like he has his whole life._

_A soft groan falls from his lips, feeling desire creep up his body. He moves forward closer to your slumbering form and presses his toned chest against the supple skin of your back. He tangles his legs within yours, relishing in the velvety smoothness of your skin against his, and moves his front flush against the swell of your backside._

_He brushes his nose up the extension of your neck, stopping at the base of your ear. His lips press against the pulsing skin resulting in you involuntary craning your neck for further access. His delicate kisses quickly transform into open-mouthed, lascivious sucking and pulling against the skin. You flutter your eyes open in tune with a soft moan falling from your lips._

_”Steve.”_  
  
Your blood pounds through your skin, nearly as hard as the rain outside, as you grind your backside against his hips. You drowsily raise your arm up and around to the base of his neck, gripping tightly to his blond tresses. His lips trail up your jawline, softly dragging is teeth against the skin. He reaches his fingers under your chin, tilting your head in his direction, the heat of his lips finally melding against yours.

_Your lips move in a synchronized rhythm, both feeling consumed desire and hunger for each other. Steve’s hand leaves your jaw, roaming down the downward curve of your body. His fingers drag against the curve of your hips, pushing away any bedding that hides your body. Swiftly and soundlessly, he slides his palm to the inner warmth of your thighs. You instinctively lift your leg, draping it across the robust muscles of Steve’s thighs, raising your knee upwards. His fingers dance across the warmth of your inner thigh, enjoying the newly granted access you gave him. The cool air hits the exposed flesh between your legs and the soft circles of his fingers cause your body to convulse into shivers._

_”Touch me, Steve.”_

_A flare of heat spreads through your abdomen the moment his thumb makes contact, swirling and dragging it painstakingly lightly and slowly against the sensitive bundle. Overcome with eagerness, you rock your hips against his hand, melting into his being as his hands and lips work against your skin. A faint gasp leaves your mouth as you relish in the lust consuming your body. You ache for Steve, and your growing moans only fuel the hunger he has for you, sending his body burning against the squirming mess of your own._  
  
A silky moan laced with lust falls from his lips, bringing his fingers to a gently stop. He inches his fingers up your thigh, stopping at your knee, lifting it higher. Your muscles shake within his palms, sending chills throughout his body. He slips his own arousal between your thighs, sliding it across your slickened heat it twitches in anticipation for.

_His teeth cling to your neck, nipping and sucking against your skin as his member sheathes itself within the warm walls of your core. The immediate pleasure steals air from both of your lungs, filling the room with breathless moans. You arch your back against his chest, tangling your fingers further into his hair, keeping all pleas and praise within the confine of your lips._

_Slowly._

_Deeply._

_Passionate._

_Harder._

_Faster._

_Lustful._

_With every passing second, Steve’s thrusts grow in speed and intensity. He pumps in and out of you, withdrawing his member nearly full before borrowing straight back inside, stretching and tightening you like you’ve never felt before. With each thrust, over and over and over again, the coil in you stomach grows tighter and tighter. His name falls from your lips in a salacious manner, urging his hips further into you. Any space between your bodies being eliminated long ago, Steve savours the feeling of your body quivering against his, watching the dips and plains of your skin moving with each thrust he sends. The sounds of your moans and gasps send his body into a frenzy. Feeling the tightness of your walls caving around himself, he moves faster, unceasingly grinding into your core until your body shakes. You feel as Steve taps against the spot within yourself that sends your vision blurry and your mouth screaming. His mouth covers yours, muting your cries of ecstasy. His own pleasure erupts the moment you hit your peak. Your interlaced forms strain every muscle in your bodies, both of you completely consumed in the waves of lust and desire that persist from the finale of your intimacy._

_Both of you pant, grasping onto the lingering waves of your orgasms, the heat slowly retreating from your stomachs. Steve gently untangles your leg from his, lowering it onto the plush mattress. You lazily remove your fingers from within Steve’s hair, dragging your hand over to bedsheet that rests half on the bed and half off._

_Silence consumes both of you, laying in comfortable stillness, waiting for your minds to form coherent thoughts. The sudden feeling of a large hand connecting with you smaller one, intertwining your fingers, sends your head facing towards the man of your affection besides you. A small smile plays at his lips as his eyes shine with pure adoration. The hand not laced within yours reaches up towards your after-sex hair, smoothing it down slightly then trailing down the side of your cheek. The pad of his thumb brushes over the flushed heat of your cheek, rubbing in gentle circles._

_“Why couldn’t I have waited to meet you?”_

Your eyes suddenly shoot open. Your breathing comes out in short, laboured breaths. Beads of sweat scatter across your forehead, the occasional one trickling down your face. You bring a shaky hand through your knotted bedhead. Your eyes stay in an alarmed, wide state as they move around the room making sure you were truly awake from your dream. They rest on the calm, slumbering form of Bucky. You focus on the shallow breaths he takes, completely unaware of your current state. As you watch Bucky, you feel your heartbeat gradually slow down. You take a lengthy breath, only for it to be broken by the quiet vibrations coming from your cell phone.

You reach to your nightstand, glancing at the name displayed on the screen. 

**_P. Coulson_ **

A groan leaves your throat as you press the ‘answer’ button, bringing the phone up to your ear. “What is it, Coulson?” You release a small yawn as you adjust the phone in your hand. Glancing over to Bucky’s stirring body laying beside you, you swing your feet over the bed shuddering at the coldness of the floor. 

“Hi.” You hear him let out an airy laugh. “Hello, how are you?”

“Hi. Hello. How are you?” You mimic. “What do you want, Coulson? It’s three in the morning.” Standing from the bed, you walk out of your bedroom and head towards the dimly lit kitchen.

“He needs your help.”

A frown forms on your face as you become aware just as to who the man’s referring to. “I don’t work for him anymore.”

“He trusts you.” Phil sighs loudly. “You’re one of the only ones he truly does.”

You hear a sound echo from your bedroom, so you lower your voice. “I don’t work for him anymore.” 

“And yet you answered my call and you still haven’t hung up.”

“Is this a test? Are you wanting me to hang up?”

“No,” He groans in frustration, aware of just how stubborn you can be. “Just listen, [Y/N]. There’s a woman, a personal aide to Sharon, saying she’s sleeping with him.”

“Well is she?” 

“Of course not. You know the man. He’s devoted to his family and would never do such a thing. I just need you to shut her down.”

“I need to see him.”

“I’m afraid that just isn’t all that plausible, [Y/N]-”

“You want me to shut her down?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then let me see him.”

“His schedule is so tight that his own kids can’t even come and visit during his working hours.”

"He needs a favor. He’s the one who needs help. He wants my services. You tell Steven Grant Rogers, President of The damn United States to make some fucking time.”

“[Y/N]-”

“Make the time, Coulson.” You remove the phone from your ear, ignoring the protests coming from the other end, and hang it up. You rest your head in your hands, leaning on the counter. A faint stinging sensation erupts from your tear ducts as you fight off the possible onslaught of tears. 

“[Y/N]?” Bucky’s voice calls from your shared bedroom. “Are you okay out there?”

You wipe the back of your hand across your eyes, taking a couple sniffing breaths. “Yeah, babe. I’ll be right there.” With a final breath, you head towards your bedroom with only one thing on your mind. Just one question. One single life changing question.

_“Why couldn’t I have waited to meet you?”_


	2. Camp David

##  **-Then-**

“We just had our asses served.” An exasperated voice strikes through the air, coming to a lengthy, irritated sight. “They were served to us on a damn silver platter.” The owner of the agitated voice purses her lips and shakes her blonde head of hair is disapproval. “Ohio, Steve. Fucking Ohio. You lost goddamn Ohio. You’re practically giving away your presidency to Rhodes.”

“Sharon-”

“No, Steve.” Her words cut through the air. “There’s not a single thing in my life that I haven’t given up for you. I’ve jeopardized my career for you. I've had a child for you. I’ve done anything and everything for you just so you could be the goddamn president! If you told me when I first met you twelve years ago that this is where our lives would be, I would’ve backed out when I still had the chance.”

“Sharon, I didn’t ask for any for-”

“And what do I get? After everything I’ve done, what do I get? Hatred and resentment. My own husband’s resentment towards me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want this just as much as I do.”

“Steve-”

“At least I’m wanting to go into the house with the ideals of change and freedom for this country, you’re just wanting to-’

“Steve,” The tired voice of Phil Coulson, who had been standing off to the side of the small office since this fight had started nearly twenty minutes ago, interrupts. “Sharon, we have to be level headed here. This is just the beginning. We have to stay calm.”

“I’m past calm, Phil. Way past calm.” Sharon’s thin brows knit in a frown as her eyes flash Steve an unrelenting stare of distrust.  “I’m starting to think this is a dead marriage. What are we even doing?” With that, the blonde woman strides across the small office, smoothing down the blue chiffon of her dress and the flyways of her hair, attempting to appear as if she hadn’t been fighting with her husband for the past twenty minutes.

The echo of her heels comes to an abrupt stop as the boom of a slamming door sounds through the office space instead. Steve brings a sweaty hand to his forehead and pinches his eyebrows in irritation. Phil stands, still to the sidelines, not knowing what to do or say in the current situation he finds himself in. As he opens his mouth to speak to the seething man, a faint creak resounds through the room. 

Steve takes his eyes off of the worn hardwood they had been fixated on and brings them up towards the slowly opening door. He lets out a shaky breath of air, mentally preparing himself for what he thinks is round two of his seeming neverending fight with his wife. Instead of his wife’s scowl, he’s learned to memorize, he finds the soft, almost goddess-like, features of a young woman poking his head through his office. 

Your sparkling eyes scan across the room, searching for the person you’ve flown nearly two thousand miles to find. They finally rest on the lean, muscular figure of Governor Steven Grant Rogers. 

Your new client.

“Sorry Governor Rogers, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” You walk fully into the room, softly closes the door behind yourself. You nod your head towards the much older man leaning against the wall watching you with his light irises as they gleam with newfound amusement. “Nice to see you again, Coulson.”

“Always a pleasure, [Y/N].”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Steve brings his hand down from his forehead and crosses his brawny arms against his chest. “Who are you?”

You talk a step forward, striding confidently. “I was hired by your campaign manager, over there, to let’s say assist with your public image.”

“I have a publicist for that.”

“Oh, I’m not a publicist.” You smile faintly at the blonde man as you shake your head. “I work much deeper than any publicist; I’m a fixer, it’s what I’ve been told I do best.” You fold your hands in front of your body as you take another step closer to the man’s desk.

“A fixer?” He questions, not sure exactly what your purpose here is.

“As a fixer to your campaign, I know why James Rhodes is beating you by a landslide in Ohio, and I know why he’ll do it again in Iowa.”

“And what would that be Ms...”

“[L/N]. [Y/N] [L/N].” You shift your pupils from the Governor to his campaign manager. Phil sends you a small smile and a nod of his head, edging you to continue. “It’s your marriage. The scene that I heard from out there into is only further proof of that. The voters need to know that they’re letting a golden, picture perfect family into this country’s main house. American’s are built on the roots of family values, and you and your family aren’t living up to their expectations.”

Steve’s eyes widen in shock as his pupils dilate in near outrage. “Ms.[L/N]-”

“It looks like you don’t screw your wife to be quite frank. You look cold and distant. That would be fine if you were in almost any other country, but your not. Jesus, family, and free tuition are how you win over almost any American. Since Rhodes has Jesus firmly on his side, you need either tuition or family, but I have an itching feeling you’ll be more open to fixing you marriage.”

“I don’t need help with my marriage, and I certainly don’t need anyone to fix my campaign.” Steve sends a pointed look to both you and Phil. He sighs deeply as he adjusts the cuff of his shirt. “Now Ms. [L/N], I apologize that Phil lead you to this job, but we won’t be needing your services.”

You draw your lips into a line and shake your head in an expressionless manner.  “Fine. I’ll just have my hotel room billed to the campaign, you’re in luck, I haven’t had any time to raid the mini bar yet. Best of luck, Governor Rogers.” You strut across the room, slamming the door much like the Governor’s wife had done moments before.

“You just fired her?”

Silence looms through the air as Steve takes a seat in the leather chair seated behind the large, cluttered, oak desk. He rests his elbow on the desk, leaning his head exasperatedly against the palm of his hand. “Her behavior was unprofessional-.”

Phil takes a step closer to the desk, crossing his arms agitatedly. “You fired her for being the only one who had the guts to say what was on all of our minds?”

“She has no place on this team.” Steve groans, massaging his temple for a headache he feels brewing from beneath the skin.

“[Y/N] is the single greatest student I’ve seen walk out of my class.”

“At Harvard?”

“You got that right, Steve, at Harvard.” Phil takes a seat in one of the worn chairs sitting adjacent from the Governor’s desk. “Let’s be clear about one thing, I’m with you. I live, breathe, eat, and sleep this campaign of yours. I wouldn’t call in for backup if I didn’t think we needed it. We need [Y/N]. At this point, I think she might be your only real shot at getting into Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do now?”

“I expect that you’ll go and chase after that girl and beg her for her services because she does have much better things to do.”

 

##  **-Now-**

Bucky’s fingers quickly glide against the glass screen of his tablet as the pattering of pounding rain, on the walls of the apartment the two of you share, creates a lull of white noise. A soft clap of thunder brings his attention away from the investigation report he’s in the process of writing and focusing on the window chilled by the cool winter air from outside. He moves his gaze away from the dewy window and glances at the time.

**2:46 AM**

Bucky releases a soft breath of air as he sets his tablet down on his cluttered nightstand. He shuffles down the bed, moving out of his sitting position, and rests his head against the cool fabric of his pillowcase. He turns over to the other side of the bed resulting in a small frown to form on his lips. His eyes linger on the unoccupied spot of the bed that typically occupies his insomniac of a girlfriend. He sighs softly and switches his gaze from the bed to the bedroom door, finding a faint light shining from down the hallway. 

The dark floorboard of the bedroom creaks lightly beneath his feet as he moves off of the plushness of the bed. Bucky tiptoes down the short hallway until he reaches the source of the dimmed light. Sitting under the soft light above the small kitchen island is you with your eyes trained on the blinding light emitting from your computer screen. Bucky watches as your eyes scan the screen of your computer rapidly, while subconsciously tapping your finger against the curve of your cheekbone as your head rests in the palm of your hand. Your lips rest in a thin line as a small crease forms between your eyebrows.

It drives him crazy just how beautiful you are, even when you’re intensely focused on a murder accusation.

Bucky shuffles behind you and wraps his arms around your body, leaving a gentle trail of kisses dow you neck. “It’s almost three in the morning, baby,” He softly whispers into your hair, nuzzling his nose into your lavender scented locks. You lean into his body, feeling a sharp pain erupt from your lower back from having little to no movement from the past few hours.

“You’re going to have to move me from this stool.” You sigh out. “I’m broken and stuck here.” 

Bucky soundlessly chuckles as he shakes his head in amusement. “I told you the bed would be better,” He slides an arm around your back, and the other under your legs, sweeping you up into the air with one swift motion. 

“If I worked in bed you and I both know there would be no work happening.”

“That’s the point.” He whispers into your hair.

As he sets you into your shared bed, you release a melodic laugh grabbing his arm and pulling him on top of you. Bucky smiles, slowly spreading your legs apart as he settles his weight between them. He leans down to pepper soft kisses across your neck, moving his hands under your thin t-shirt and resting them on the smooth skin of your stomach. “You're going?” Bucky questions you in a hushed tone from within the dip of your neck. “In the morning?”

“I'm going.” You respond, moving your fingers up to his hair, tangling them within his brown tresses. You lean upwards, bringing your lips to the chiseled shape of his jaw. You drag your teeth lightly over the skin, resting your mouth against his neck while sucking softly.

“To Camp David?” Bucky smirks. “You’re such a badass.”

You pull away from the warm of his neck and trail your eyes up his. You smile gently at him, lying back down on the silky fabric of your pillow. “I won't be gone long. I’ll be back before Clint and Natasha even start arguing over where we’re getting takeout for lunch.”

“You're going to Camp David to meet with the President.” Bucky smiles softly and shakes his head in fascination. He shuffles out from between your legs, moving to his side of the bed. He fluffs his pillow a few times before sliding into the warmth of the bed sheets. “You make my life feel underwhelming.”

You reach over to your nightstand, clicking the bright bedside light off. “Meeting in the White House is too official. Too much press there.”

“He wants you to take your old job back, doesn't he? Nat thinks he's wooing you.” Bucky follows your lead by shutting off the lamp on his nightstand, the room engulfing in darkness.

You fully move your body, scooting closer to Bucky, facing him with your body nearly pressing against his. “He's not wooing me. We're friends.”

“Tony and you are friends. He's the leader of the free world." Bucky wraps his arms around your waist as his fingers delicately begin tracing patterns across the length of your back. “You get weird. After you see him and Phil, you get weird. They make you weird. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“They don't make me weird.” You nuzzle yourself into Bucky’s toned chest. “I just don’t like reliving the past, that’s all.”

Silence looms over the two of you. For a moment you think that Bucky has fallen asleep until his voice speaks out in a muffled volume.

“What happened between all of you?” As the question leaves Bucky’s mouth, your feel your heart drop to the deepest pit of your stomach. Your mouth becomes dry as you search for words that could get you out of your current situation. “You always get in a mood whenever Phil calls, and I know you don’t like talking about your political days, but I just want you to fill me in a little.” 

“Bucky,” You grimace slightly as you bring your hand up to his cheek, slowly caressing the stubble covered skin. “Believe me, babe, I will. But, not at three in the morning. Let's have this conversation when the sun’s out and I’ve had a couple of coffees in me.”

“Okay.” Bucky sighs out, bringing one of his hands up to yours.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles, pulling you closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Buck.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You stand inside of one of the many lavish sitting rooms spread throughout Camp David. Your heels sink into the plush carpet that lays across the room, nearly spreading from wall to wall. Your eyes scan around the room taking the time to rest on a regal portrait of JFK, a Secret Service agent who you mentally named Yogi, a priceless vase that could’ve once belonged to a Mr. Washignton, and a second agent who you’ve named Boo-Boo. You stop your eyes from wandering around and focus your attention on the white gold wrist watch, your grandmother had given you for Christmas one year, looking at the time.

 **9:27 AM**  

You let out a soft breath of air, wiping your nervous hands on the soft fabric of your flattering skirt. ‘Anytime now.’ You mentally remind yourself. You can keep confidence and calmness in almost any situation you find yourself in, although after leaving your position at the White House, you find having anything to do with anything from behind its walls nerve wrecking. ‘Anytime.’

After a few more minutes of switching your eyes back and forth between your watch and the large mahogany doors leading into the room, your attention moves to the faint sound of heels echoing towards the wooden doors. The doors open, welcoming two more agents into the spacious room, shortly followed by one of the most looked up to women in all of The United States. Her blonde hair sways with each stride she takes and her dark eyes sparkle as they connect with yours. Her lips rise in a dazzling smile, her teeth perfectly shining as her mouth moves in a graceful greeting. 

“Sharon.” You smile at the First Lady. She walks over to you as the human embodiment of poise and elegance.

“[Y/N],” She opens her arms “You never call, text, email, or anything. We were starting to think you were avoiding us.”

“Well, you’re a little busy now.” You force an even bigger smile as you walk into the woman’s arms, giving her a warm hug. A strong scent of some lavish perfume fills your senses as you give her back a friendly pat. “How’s everything? How’s Sarah adjusting to the First Daughter lifestyle?” You pull from her embrace and smooth your hands down your white blouse. 

“Well, she’s most certainly trying to adjust.” The First Lady sighs quietly. “She’s a great kid. She’ll never complain, but I know she misses her friends and I know how much she hates having the Secret Service go everywhere with her.” Sharon twirls a blonde strand of hair between her nimble fingers as she softly shakes her head. “She just needs some more time. I mean, we still have minimum three more years here, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.” An adoring smile works itself onto her face. “Steve’s really helping. He’s great.”

“That’s really great to hear.”

“Anyways, enough of me. How are you? How’s the glamourous life of [Y/N [L/N]?” Sharon lightly grabs your forearms in excitement as heat radiates off of her palms. “Are you dating anyone?”

“Actually-” You begin to respond, but a very familiar voice cuts through the air

“[Y/N].”

You move your head in the direction of the welcoming, tenor voice, finding the tall, muscular figure of America’s leader. A large smile plays at Steve’s lips as he takes a few step closer to your direction. The corner of his eyes crinkles in undeniable happiness as you send back one of your famous, breathtaking smiles. “Mr. President.”

“Please,” Steve stands beside Sharon, wrapping an arm around her waist. “There’s no need to be so formal. We’re all friends here.”

You start a response to Steve, but another old friend walks into the room with what seems to be a spring in his step. “Friends we are,” The chipper voice of Phil Coulson booms through the room. “[Y/N].”

“Hi. Hello. How are you, Coulson.” You playfully nod to the man with a small roll of your eyes.

“Great as always.” Coulson turns towards the man and wife of the country, motioning his arm towards the handful of agents that stand off to the side. “Well, Sharon, I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to have to discuss some business with Ms. [L/N] and Steve.”

“No problem at all, I’ll let you get to it.” Sharon sends you a beaming smile and then turns slightly towards Steve, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips. She gives out a quick goodbye as she exits through the large wooden doors she entered from just minutes before.

Steve clears his throat after a moment, grabbing your attention. Steve points his arm in the direction of the seating area where Coulson has already situated himself in. You follow his lead as he takes a seat on one of the floral couches. “I just want to say how thankful I am for you to help us out with our situation.” Steve leans towards you, uttering in a hushed tone.

Coulson rummages through a folder one of the agents had passed to him, finding the collection of papers he had been searching for. “Her name is Sylvie Lushton. She’s twenty-nine, and as I mentioned before, she’s one of Sharon’s everyday aides.” He passes over the file to you, prompting you to scan over it. “She’s running her mouth to any worker within the house that will listen. And-”

“Let me guess, you can’t fire her.” You close the file, placing it gently next to you and Steve.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his perfectly sculpted blonde locks. “No.” 

“Not without having an even bigger mess on your hands.” You shake your head as you cross your legs, resting your forearms on your thighs and leaning towards Coulson. “And that’s why I’m here. I’m here to put a stop to this before it turns into a wildfire.”

“Precisely.”

“Steve,” You sit up straight as you shift your body towards your old friend. “I have to ask-”

“No. Never. It’s not right.” He cuts you off. “You've known me for a long time, seeing me at my best and worst. You know better that that. You know I wouldn’t fall for some young girl” Steve brings his gaze up to yours, staring deeply into your eyes with his mesmerizing baby blue irises. Your eyes never leave Steve’s as he speaks his next sentence. “You know there's only one person I love.”  

You feel your heart get caught in your throat, and your breath instantly being taken from you. You open your mouth, but Coulson’s voice echoes instead. “Sharon and Steve are happy together. They’re closer than ever. This isn’t the elections anymore, they have an iron relationship. He'd have no reason to cheat.”

“I'll handle it.” You move your stare from Steve resting it on the tired face of his Cheif of Staff. “Consider it handled.” 

"Well look at us,” Coulson claps his hands together in one loud slap, letting a genuine toothy smile spread on his thin lips. You feel your own mouth spread into a small smile, the effects of Phil’s feeling contagious to both you and Steve. “The team’s back together.”


End file.
